


The thing about getting hurt

by Ficauthor



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, David is trying his best, He has PTSD, Hurt No Comfort, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, abuse mention, give him a hug, gwen just really wants a nap, i have yet to finish season three, i made max sad, i'm leaving fanfic net, max is so emotionally damaged my man, vauge abuse mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 22:37:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17754800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ficauthor/pseuds/Ficauthor
Summary: Max's parents don't care he wasn't lying about that, he just also didn't tell the full story. All hurt and angst no comfort. No particular trigger warnings except bland descriptions of neglect and minor mental abuse, and brushed passed glossed over physical abuse. It's a little dark.





	The thing about getting hurt

**Author's Note:**

> trigger warning:  
> neglect and abuse mentions, it's not in depth and max tries to brush past it in it but beware that it is there.

Max was lucky in a lot of ways. He knew that he had clothes in his back he was never hungry he had internet access at home. But the thing about it was. it wasn't enough, he had things, plenty of things, his small room was littered with useless shit, most of which he'd collected over the years and bought himself. But that stuff was contingent on a lot of variables. So he didn't attach himself. It was just because despite his ownership of everything in the room there was still a moments notice that'd occur and it'd all be gone. Tossed in trash bags and then in the garage.

It's not that he was abused per se, not anymore. But it was lacking, and he felt guilty for wanting and demanding more. His father left two years ago and he thought things would get better, but the hole in his heart just grew. Then his mother grew unstable. She smoked cigarette after cigarette, one deathstick entering her lungs after the other burned out. Tinting his life and belongings with an acrylic burn that curled its way pervasively into every aspect of his life.

Then there was the shouting and the anger, she never laid a hand on him unless to snatch something out of his grasp but she always made it clear to him that that line was a close edge she was willing to dance near. When he wanted to hang with some of his friends she shouted at him on a school night late that he didn't have a right to doubt her. and she questioned him demanded to know if he'd rather live with some messed up alcoholic. Like she had room to talk she drank too but she was quick to judge and quicker to defend herself.

Max learned not to close a door even slightly to forcefully, not to raise his voice. And most importantly never to swear.

Max sitting leaning on his bedroom door clinging to Mr. Honeynuts as he tensely waited ignoring his mother's belligerent shouting and anger. Then the entire door shook violently on its hinges and it scratched into his back.

She'd taken a hammer to his door and smashed. Bang Bang Bang three resounding cracks echoed through the house before he cried out in pain. The door had bruised his back and splinters had fallen and scrapped his arms. His mother blamed him told him outright that he shouldn't have pushed her to the limit. He didn't raise his voice though. he just bit his tongue till he felt blood while he dug his fingernails deeply into his hands. The half crescents never properly disappeared before he was cutting them again.

"Now _Maximus,_ " she'd say stressing his name to tell him how he'd fucked up.

Raising his voice earned him shouting and frustration. But she always rationalized it. She was tired, she was a single mom with a job, she was doing her best. He pushed her to the limit. She didn't ask much of him really, she just wanted him to do a few menial chores. After all, she did so much for him it wasn't much to ask in return. He didn't comment on how the bills were paid by support by others and how she had a low percentage she paid.

"Now  _Maximus,_ mommy's  _very tired_  so go to your room and  _be quiet,"_ she lectured after removing his still busted up door from its hinges and telling him how and why he was a brat.

Swearing became a secret haven. Swear words were the forbidden fruit of language the words decompressed him, relaxed his soul they made him feel free they released tensions in his shoulders he didn't realize he had but he was never allowed to utter them. She did of course but she was allowed to, she was the  _adult_  of the situation.

She was always the adult, no matter how much Max cleaned or cooked for her, no matter how much he went and got the mail and talked to the landlord instead of her. No matter how many times he scrubbed her nicotine stained ashtrays sparkling and no matter how many times he went and cleaned her tar laced vomit from the old stained carpet.

He managed to convince her to take him to a therapist and get tested. Under the guise of ADHD testing, she was happy to jump at the opportunity to fix her little chore slave so he did more work. Like he expected the test didn't tell him if he had ADHD it told him plenty of other things though. It told him he was smarter than your average chuckle fuck, he better be because that sure as hell was all he had. It also told him that surprise surprise his past fucked him up and they were concerned about the signs of PTSD and depression they saw.

He wondered what the PTSD was from specifically, his father's temper and raised hand? The spankings and lashings for minor outbursts? The time he was force-fed an entire thing of chili's and forced to go to school while he was so violently ill he threw up blood. Maybe it was from the neighbor that made him do all of her chores and take care of her 6 bratty kids like an unpaid baby sitter while she berated him and his hair and his filthy hoodie and threatened him with a belt like it was normal. His mom was  _fine_  letting that happen because the neighbor was her only friend and often gave her cigarettes and encouragement.

The praise only served to inflate her self worth, Max's report card came home with a C and she had the audacity to blame him, he was overworked because of her and because of her snotty best friend and she made it all about her and her image and how people viewed her.

He managed to trick her into taking him to a therapist. The woman didn't seem to understand though, overworked and having a thousand patients be damned she seemed to just want to get the sessions over as quickly as possible. She was already sick of him too, that churned his stomach at the thought, he  _hated_  being a nuisance.

She had  _one_ joint session with him and his mom, it didn't go well. The bitches silver tongue weaved a tale about it being his fault and that he was just a petulant child that loved to defy her every parental decree. She established in the woman's mind that Max over exaggerated and lied to get his way and the woman fell for it. So a schedule was set up he'd no longer get woken up at random hours by the bitch (she  _insisted_ that it was only ever 9 in the morning if he didn't have school) he'd get woken up by an alarm in his room on his own.

Well, that plan immediately went to shit, the first morning she woke him up with sweet words and was shockingly kind. she did that sometimes with the promise that things would be different. and then she sent him to his aunts while she "quit smoking". It was supposed to be for a week but it only lasted three days of his aunts sever bible thumping rhetoric that he'd go to hell for his "sins" (how was it fair that he was "condemned" because his parents had premarital fucking that led to him?) before his mother cigarettes still in hand waltzed up and snatched him away from his half-eaten dinner. After that, he was sent to bed and then he was able to sleep peacefully until 11 for the first time in years.

He was only awoken because the bitch accused him of connecting his phone to the wifi and slowing the internet. She also complained that his phone flashlight was on despite the fact that the light was the only thing that let him sleep. He got up and got his coffee, he tried to sit on the couch and turn on the t.v.

"No tech no t.v." she droned off not looking up from her "paperwork".

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"We talked about this with your  _therapist_  you didn't get up on time and do your chores, no t.v., no technology."

Max was fuming he'd forgotten because of everything that had happened in the last few days and it was his fault?! He bit his tongue again and held back tears as he went to his room. He heard her on the phone moments later laughing and complaining about how much he was a brat.

She hurt him but it was his own fault he rationalized most days. He pushed her to the edge, he deserved the consequences. at least summer was only three months he told himself as the school year drew to a close. Then he'd be able to go to a slightly better government-funded hell hole when school started again. But then she surprised him," pack your things enough for the whole summer. "

He didn't get any more explanation no more than a glance was even directed towards him, he was just sent off with a suitcase as big as him. He rolled his clothes tightly and packed it well. he didn't have a lot of clothes so he was able to pack them all and still have half the suitcase left. He put Mr. honeynuts in the front pocket carefully surrounded by different health care items all rolled together in a thing of cling wrap... They were out of plastic bags.

Max wasn't an idiot he'd seen the brochure so he knew that she was sending him to a summer camp. but he'd seen other things. So he started putting in what he didn't want to live without, things he didn't want to lose. He had the space for those things and then some. His room though filled to the brim with things was a tiny almost cupboard sized room so he was able to quite literally pack all of his worldly possessions into the large suitcase.

That was depressing, he hit his face no he couldn't get stuck thinking things like that. That night she dropped him off at the camp. There was a tall red-haired man that greeted him, the cheery man expressed concern that this was a bit early and that most of the other campers wouldn't show up for at least another month but Max's mother passed over a bundle of money and the downtrodden looking woman in the corner with a ponytail jumped to attention and handed over the papers for his mother to sign and fill out. Max was only paying enough attention to hear the duo explain how the camp was 'special' and that he could pick an activity. His mother finished and the counselors didn't even glance at the papers before they told them to take their times with goodbyes.

The annoying man was looking away but the woman was stared shamelessly over her magazine.

"I have to go now sweetie," his mother said the word sweetie stabbing him in the heart it was a sticky sickly word that was never attached to anything good.

"Okay," he told her kicking some dirt up, not sure what to do with himself or what to say.

She plastered on a fake smile," I love you." Max nodded and said something in agreement while he just tried to focus as little as possible on how those words hurt him, and how big of a  _lie_ they were just being said to keep up appearances.

And then she was gone, kicking up dirt tires squealing," Well there Maximus welcome to camp Campbell, campe dia-"

"It's  _Max_ ," he cut the cheery mans words off harshly.

"Wha-what I'm sorry?" he asked confused.

"Its  _Max_  so  _fuck off_ ," shit he didn't remember the tall man's name," C- _camp man_!" he stuttered out angrily putting as much malice into the word as possible. he  _hated_  his full name and like hell, he was letting that beam pole say it again.

He wasn't quite sure why he was lashing out but it felt good and he needed to get the frustration off his chest and this man seemed a good target as any for the verbal assault. As he walked away flicking of the man for good measure he felt a sick twist of power and control. a sense of control he'd  _never_  had and it was something he was enjoying.

"Max language," the cheery man said the woman picked up Max's paperwork. the boy panicked he know that his mother would not have filled it out properly and he didn't want pity or some lecture. So he threw a fit his heart beating as he let his normally constrained opinions and feelings fly free. He insulted them using every dirty word he knew and then some. he got creative and said words he vaguely remembered being taught in Hindi, he wasn't sure if they were insults but if all felt good to get off his chest as he went off on the pair.

The man's eyes were prickling with tears as he looked shocked and unsure of what to do, the woman seeing this stepped in flinging Max's papers unread into the filing cabinet he smirked internally," now listen here you little shit," Max was shocked momentarily at her language but it confirmed his suspicions, all adults were shitty people. "I don't want to be here either this fucking job doesn't pay me  _enough_ to put up with an attitude like yours, so you better behave," she said almost threateningly but Max wasn't backing down, he was too far in, he wasn't going to let her get the last word.

He went to fight back but the man cut in," Gwen!" he said in an aghast tone," that's no way to talk to a camper, even if he's being difficult, I'm sure he's just having trouble adjusting and misses his parents, " Max scoffed at the man's naive assumption, " now Max what you did was rude, so whatever your camp activity was will be put on hold for a few weeks, when the others show up I hope you'll be nicer.

The next few weeks were a drag, he passed the time by pranking and making the counselors lives a living hell. He wasn't the only one to show up early some kid in a tophat showed up a week early for "magic camp" his jumpy parents only sticking around for a few moments before they drove off, Max avoided him though like he avoided the cheery counselor. It wasn't until the others were about to arrive that he learned the man's name, or rather he happened to be paying attention when his name was called out, David. Yeah, that name fit the cheery fuck for sure. All the others arrived on a bus and then it was just activities galore.

But what shocked Max the most is how much the man  _seemed_ to care, or at least how much effort he put into faking that he did. he gave the Hitler kid real paints to work in from his paycheck, he helped some dork with braces construct a tower with cardboard and wood he cut from a tree. He helped some idiot with a fishbowl on his head make a "rocket ship", he even talked kindly to some brawly kid with knives that kept stabbing him.

Max knew it was an act, it had to be after all adults were only as nice for as long as it benefited them, so it was just a matter of time, and he'd break him. He knew he'd probably not escape the shitty camp but he had to try, even living on the streets would be better than this fucking place that his mother graciously dumped him at.

Because the thing about being hurt like Max had been was that it was hard to trust things a face value. and it was hard for him to take things at a healthy value, sure he did brash idiotic things that bit him in the ass, but he was just a kid, he didn't have an example to follow, so he was just doing his best. Because the thing about getting hurt, is you're prone to hurt others back.

**Author's Note:**

> Please kudo and comment, comments feed my life force and help me gain a stick to beat away the anxiety. I'm joking, of course, please don't feel pressured to comment but I do love them!


End file.
